


What We Leave Unsaid

by Regann



Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/297068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regann/pseuds/Regann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah and Bryce have been talking about Chuck for a lot longer than she ever realized. [Set after S2's "Chuck Versus the Break-Up"]</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Leave Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Chinese Translation available [here](http://stuuuuuuuupid.lofter.com/post/1def9c15_f48c7d2), courtesy of Ladybuuuuugs.

When Sarah first meets her new partner, she isn't sure she likes him. He's handsome, definitely, with messy dark hair and soulful blue eyes; and he's charming, with a white-toothed smile and purring delivery to even the most innocuous line. But Sarah is wary of him, because there's just something about him, something that makes it all seem so fake -- the charm, the smile, even the flirting. There's a shallowness to it, like a veneer slapped over the surface. Sarah knows truth and honesty aren't exactly part of the spy package, but it's still unsettling to see someone so good and yet so obvious about deception at the same time.

But there's a glint in his eyes, one that goes deep; one that speaks to danger and cunning and maybe even violence. That glint tells Sarah that no matter whatever else she finds fake about him, there's one thing she can depend on: he is definitely a real spy. She trusts nothing else about him, but she trusts that.

Their assignment is short, and they aren't even cleared to know each other's real names yet -- or even their fake real names. Sarah isn't Sarah at the moment, but Abigail Drury, and she only knows her partner by a numeric codename that'll be replaced by an alias before they set off to their destination.

His hand is warm in hers as they shake, and he's still flashing that knee-weakening smile.

"Name?" he asks.

"Abigail," she says.

"You don't look like an Abigail," he counters. "Maybe an Abby."

"And you?" she asks coolly.

"Me?" He releases her hand, though the smile doesn't leave his face. "I'm Charles. Nice to meet you, Abby."

She's not amused by his needling over her alias. "I wish I could say the same, Chuck," she returns, deciding that she doesn't like him after all.

Something flickers over his face, dark and deep and fleeting, and the veneer slips for a moment before it settles back into place. "If we're going to be stuck on pet names, you can just call me Charlie," he tells her.

Sarah can't help but be confused, though, as "Charles" seems to lose himself in thought. There's another flash of something -- maybe sadness -- on his face, but his smile is transforming into something soft, and the danger leaves his eyes for a moment. When he looks up at her again, Sarah is no longer struck by his fakeness.

This is the moment Sarah always remembers as the one where she realizes how stunning Bryce Larkin is.

**

Their fifth mission together finds them hold up in some tiny, dingy motel room on the wrong side of the US-Mexican border, in some town that the 21st century somehow missed. It's the middle of the summer, and it's sweltering -- the air conditioner in their room died long ago, and they keep the door and windows closed for their own safety. Sarah's clothes are sticky with sweat, her hair plastered to her neck in wet tangles. Bryce, in a way she both admires and envies, looks nonplussed by the heat, even as perspiration beads on his forehead and makes the skin of his collarbone glisten in the dim light of the room.

Their only respite to the temperature is an old box fan they've positioned on the low dresser, and its breeze stirs the mosquito netting that hangs from the ceiling. Bryce is on the floor with their weapons spread out before him like a banquet as he disassembles and reassembles them. He's cleaning and taking account of what they retained or found since their disastrous flight from the drug dealer whose ring they had tried to infiltrate. Bad intel had ruined the operation almost before it started, and now their mission is about recouping some of their losses by getting better intel.

Getting out alive is also pretty high on the agenda, too.

While Bryce sorts out the weapons, Sarah struggles with the antique laptop they managed to acquire between running for their lives and landing at the motel. She's trying to hack her way into something useful, but she's just ending up frustrated by the limitations of her tools. The only connection she has at her disposal is the room's landline and the computer isn't much better. She's been trained on all sorts of high-end technology, sophisticated systems that would make most computer engineers' heads spin, but she doesn't know what to do with this useless paperweight that Bill Gates probably trashed in 1985.

When another strange error message floats across her screen, Sarah growls and bangs on the keyboard. She blames her short temper on the heat.

Bryce looks up, laying aside the handgun he's cleaning. "What's wrong?"

"This thing," she says, sliding it away from her in disgust. "I can't get it to do anything."

Bryce rises from the floor, and crawls across the bed to where Sarah has the laptop balanced on her knees. He leans over her shoulder to check the mysterious message flashing on the screen. She glances between the laptop and his face, set in lines that speak of concentration. He nudges her out of the way, exchanging places so that she's the one hanging over his shoulder while his slightly-oily fingers fly over the keyboard. After a few minutes of steady work, the right screens start popping up and Bryce hands the laptop back to Sarah.

"That's amazing," she says, and she means it. "I didn't know you knew anything about computers."

It's a ridiculous thing to say, even though it's true. The real truth is that she knows nothing about him really, but so far in their time together, he has never been the one to do the technological heavy lifting.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he tells her, giving her one of those flirty smiles she's trying to learn to defend against.

"Like your expertise in archaic technology?" she asks. "Where did you pick that up?"

"Actually...a friend," he says with some vague wave of his hand. "It was -- well, amazing, just like you said. The geeky things he knew." Bryce shakes his head a little. "He was amazing."

Sarah's never heard Bryce praise someone much beyond "good job" in the months they've worked together, so she wonders just what other things this amazing friend can do -- and if perhaps "friend" is a euphemism for some other word entirely. But she has work to do and does so Bryce, so she doesn't ask. Instead she goes back to her hacking and Bryce goes back to the weapons, and the moment slips away like it never was.

**

Cabo in 2005 is one those times out of time, when Sarah and Bryce can forget for a few days that they're spies living lives full of danger at every turn. They've been given leave after a particularly complicated mission, and there's nothing more strenuous on their current agenda than food, sleep, sex, and sun.

The bright blue of the Pacific stretches out before them as they tumble across the golden sand, doing all the touristy things they rarely have a chance to do -- lounge on the beach, drink fruity mixed drinks, and snap cutesy photos of themselves with Sarah's camera phone. After a while, the novelty of it wears off and they just settle into relaxing: Sarah starts working her way through an airport paperback, while Bryce seems content to sit back and enjoy the serenity of the moment.

Sarah's almost engrossed in her murder mystery when she hears a snort of laughter from Bryce; she looks up questioningly to see that he's removed his shades and he's looking out over the water that's almost as blue as his eyes -- or rather, he's looking at two kids playing in the water's edge. It's a boy and a girl, both who look about 15 years old, and they're holding hands, smiling at each other in that goofy way that only means one thing. As Bryce and Sarah watch, the boy wraps his arms around the girl and laughingly drags her ankle-deep into the waves.

"What?" Sarah asks when Bryce laughs again.

He pulls his gaze away from the teenagers to look at Sarah. "Just, you know. Young love."

Sarah grins. "Bryce Larkin, a romantic? Who would've thought?"

"What can I say?" He shrugs his bare shoulders. "There's nothing like your first love."

His eyes are watching the water again with a faraway look she rarely sees in them, and Sarah knows that this is more than a random philosophical exploration of the topic. Unlike so much of what they say and do, this means something to Bryce.

"Were you that young?" she asks, nodding toward the teenage couple as they continue past them on the beach.

Bryce shoots her a look, one that's a little sheepish. "Actually, I was a late bloomer. It was my first year in college."

"Really?" Sarah can't help but be fascinated by this glimpse at the inner Bryce. It's something else she admires and envies about him -- how he can trust parts of himself to others, even in their world. She can't do it.

"Well, of course, when I was younger, I thought I'd had the real thing," he explains. "But it wasn't until I met someone when I went to school that I...figured out what it really meant. To love someone like that. More than yourself, more than for yourself."

There's an echo of pain in his voice, which alerts Sarah to the fact that this first great love of Bryce's didn't end well. "What happened?"

Bryce closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Sometimes you have to hurt the people you love for their own good."

Sarah understands. She wants to know about this mysterious love in Bryce's past that can make his breath hitch just from the memory, that can make his eyes goes soft from years away. But she doesn't ask anything else because doing so would break so many rules -- hers, Bryce's, the CIA's, the rules by which spies must live their lives. And she doesn't think she could even return the confidences Bryce has shared thus far.

So Sarah just leans over and kisses him softly, hoping that her actions say what her words cannot.

**

Sarah's had a bad day, one that started in the hospital and has ended with Chuck's break-up speech. The middle wasn't very good either, with the almost getting Chuck killed, Casey's silent accusation to the fact, and the look of shock on Bryce's face when she couldn't take the shot. She wonders if Bryce could ever understand what she was going through in that moment, with Chuck in danger; considering the fact that Bryce chose to shoot Chuck the last time they were in a similar position, she thinks not.

Unfortunately, it looks like she'll get a chance to ask him because she arrives at her hotel to find Bryce waiting for her, his expression as grim as Casey's at his best.

"Just leave, Bryce," she says, her voice as tired as the rest of her. "I already know that I messed up. I don't need you to tell me."

"Obviously you do," he says and she stiffens at the anger in his voice. It's unlike him, especially with her. Even on past missions when things went bad, he'd never been angry afterward, not like this. "That's twice in two days you almost got Chuck killed."

"I can protect Chuck," she says hotly, more stung by Bryce's doubt than she had been by Casey's. "I admit that things didn't exactly accordingly to plan today, but..."

"I've never seen you lose perspective like this." Bryce cuts her off, and that hurts, too. "Even when we were involved, you never went off-script, Sarah. You have feelings for Chuck and it's throwing you off your game."

Sarah wants to deny it, but what can she say? Bryce is right and that fact infuriates her. She has never seen Bryce let his emotions get in his way, and it makes her resent him all the more. "Are you sure that's not what this is about? My feelings for Chuck?"

Bryce clenches his jaw and glares at her. "This isn't jealousy, Sarah. This is about me not wanting to see you or Chuck killed because you can't keep your mind on the job."

"Don't try to act like you really care, Bryce," Sarah snaps, considers it her parting shot. She tries to turn away but Bryce grabs her arm to stop her, and his grip is almost painful.

"You don't know anything about how I feel, Sarah," he tells her, voice low and soft. "Chuck is my friend, and I'm the reason he's involved in this. I don't want to see him dead. Do you understand me?"

There is more emotion, more life in Bryce's face than Sarah has ever seen, even in years of sleeping with him. It shocks her into nodding dumbly.

Bryce releases her and steps back. "I'm sorry."

"Just go, Bryce."

He nods and heads to the door, but he stops before he opens it. "I mean it, Sarah. If you continue like this, you're going to get Chuck killed." Something flares in his eyes as he gives her one last look. "And I'll never forgive you if you do."

The sound of the door slamming echoes in the room just as Bryce last's words echo in Sarah's mind. For some reason, she remembers a handful of scattered conversations from over the years, and thinks she might've found the answer to the question she asked herself earlier.

Maybe Bryce knows exactly how she feels when it comes to Chuck.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published 11/2009 on LJ.


End file.
